Telling Slovenia and Slovakia Apart

An event at the National Liberal Club, in London, helps journalists, policymakers, diplomats, and businesspeople distinguish between the two countries.

Three weeks after Donald Trump’s election, Miro Cerar, the Prime Minister of Slovenia, spoke to the President-elect and offered his services as a mediator with Vladimir Putin. It seemed appropriate: Slovenia was the location of the first meeting between George W. Bush and Putin, in 2001, and it is the birthplace of the First Lady, Melania Trump. After the call to Trump, Cerar told reporters, “I know that Mr. Trump is very aware of the difference between Slovenia and Slovakia.”

Not everyone is as well informed as the President of the United States. Confusion over the two countries is common. Slovenia and Slovakia are both tiny, Slavic nations, with a combined population smaller than New York City’s. Both acceded to the European Union in 2004. Their flags both have horizontal white, blue, and red stripes, with a coat of arms on the hoist side. In 2002, the first President of independent Slovenia was welcomed to Romania with the Slovakian national anthem. This month, Slovakia beat Italy, 3–2, at the Ice Hockey World Championship, in Germany, and heard the Slovenian national anthem over the loudspeakers. In 2003, in Rome, Silvio Berlusconi introduced his Slovenian counterpart as “the Prime Minister of Slovakia.”

On a recent drizzly afternoon in London, the two states co-hosted an educational event designed to clear things up. Tadej Rupel, the Ambassador of the Republic of Slovenia to the Court of St. James’s, had concocted the idea with his Slovakian counterpart. Journalists, policymakers, diplomats, and businesspeople received invitations to the event, titled “Distinguish Slovenia and Slovakia,” which was held at the National Liberal Club, in Whitehall.

Rupel addressed the crowd. “We would like to not confuse you more: we would like to make you aware of the differences in Slovenia and Slovakia,” he said, then added, unhelpfully, “It is fair to say they have a lot in common.” Ľubomír Rehák, the Slovakian Ambassador, stood next to Rupel and pointed at his own chest. “I am wearing the tie from the Slovenian presidency” of the Council of the E.U., he said. Behind them a poster displayed maps of both countries, but in different scales and with no neighboring nations shown. Rehák reminded the audience that George W. Bush once confused the two countries. “But I think the current President would never confuse them,” he said, “because his wife is from Slovenia, and his ex-wife is from Czechoslovakia.”

Next, the head of the Slovenian Tourist Board played a YouTube video of scenes from his country: castles; the Alps; town squares; cobblestone streets; blue-eyed, blond children. An economic adviser talked up the country’s technological achievements, which include the publication of an early volume of logarithm tables. She made no mention of the philosopher Slavoj Žižek, probably Slovenia’s best-known export after the First Lady.

Rehák returned for Slovakia’s part of the presentation. “We don’t have a tourism representative,” he said, and suggested that the Slovenian rep might help him out, “because we are quite similar. Except we don’t have the sea. We have mountains.” He played a video, too: castles, mountains, town squares, cobblestone streets, children.

Slovakia and Slovenia are not the only countries to create confusion for foreigners. In 2013, the Swiss and Swedish consulates in Shanghai ran a campaign to help locals tell the two apart. The Danes and the Dutch have a similar problem, despite sharing neither longitudinal nor nominal similarities. (Both are fond of bicycles.)

At the National Liberal Club, guests drifted toward a bar stocked with wine from Slovenia and Slovakia. Posters listed fun facts about the countries’ languages (the creator of the standardized Slovak accidentally shot himself in 1855, while hunting), literature (February 8th is a public holiday in Slovenia to celebrate the national poet, whose first name is France), and history (Milanštefánik, a minor planet discovered in 1982, is named after the father of Czechoslovakia).

As the event wound down, Rehák reminded guests to pick up their goody bags: salt from Slovenia and cheese made in Slovakia.

In parting, Rehák confided that the Slovenia/Slovakia problem is an issue for his people as well. “In our own language, Slovakia is called ‘Slovensko,’ ” he said. As for Slovenia: in 2003, the nation’s parliament sponsored a competition for a new flag, partly to distinguish it from Slovakia’s. A winning design was picked. Nothing came of it. ♦

This article appears in the print edition of the May 29, 2017, issue, with the headline “You Say Slovakia.”

Leo Mirani, a journalist based in London, is the news editor of The Economist.